


riptide

by cabinfever



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blindness, M/M, MerMay, Merman Noct, Noct expresses his love with various fish, Suicidal Thoughts, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinfever/pseuds/cabinfever
Summary: Ignis has fallen into a routine by the sea.Wake, fish, cook, sleep.He doesn't expect a visitor.





	riptide

**Author's Note:**

> for [dallie,](http://www.duscaenorange.tumblr.com) who requested an AU for MerMay <3

The weather is starting to turn again.

Ignis knows it by the way the seawater feels cooler against his ankles, though it will not chill completely until deep into the fall season. The wind blows differently, though, no longer bringing in hurricanes and warm fronts from across the sea. The smell of brine and fish is the same, rolling in from the water and slipping through the cracks in the walls of his cabin by the sea. Dynamic and constant. It reminds him that he sits on the edge of something majestic.

That’s what comforts him, day in and day out. The sea is eternal. The sea will not disappear. The sea does not die.

Perhaps the seaside is not the safest place for a blind man, but he cherishes his little home all the same. Picking his way along the rocks has become easier with time. He doesn’t mind the challenge; it keeps his mind sharp and his instincts quick.

There used to be visitors, here and there. People who would come by and give him the time of day. People who weren’t afraid of the implications of his sight. 

They don’t come around anymore.

Ignis doesn’t mind, not really. It means he can keep his gloves off when he’s in the house without worrying about brushing against the skin of someone who’s none too eager to know how they’ll die. 

He ends up wearing the gloves most of the time anyway out of habit.

The gloves have multiple utilities, after all. Their uses go far beyond keeping him from inadvertently seeing the dismal futures of whomever he touches. They keep one’s hands clean, after all, and save the skin of his fingers from being caught on stray fishing hooks. 

Fishing is easy when he knows where to find his prey.

He may not be able to see the way that the sunlight illuminates the world around him, but he sees flashes - beacons in the eternal darkness of his blindness. Tinged with blue, vivid in their violence, the images of death never cease to surprise him. Anything marked by death gleams blue, brighter and brighter depending on the imminence of their demise. It’s easier to pick out in the sea than in a crowd of people, so fishing comes naturally.

He brings a sandwich with him when he does, munching on it while he waits for the line to bend and his mind to light up in the bluish flash of his prey’s incoming demise. Today, he’s chosen chickatrice meat; he gets grocery deliveries from town sent to his mailbox far up at the top of his cliff. It makes the avoidance easy for the townsfolk, so he doesn’t begrudge them the distance. At least they’re happy with this arrangement. The food is always fresh, at least, which means that maybe the others haven’t completely forgotten what he was to them.

Ignis settles on the dock the overlooks the sea. It’s down a small distance from his home, which is built up in the middle of the crags to keep it from being swallowed by the angry sea. The weather-worn wood is warm from the sun already when he sits down on it, and he promptly removes his shoes and socks, setting them aside so he can dangle his toes down and test the water. The sea welcomes him warmly, soothing in its sunlit rhythm but bringing in the chill of the deep. The currents are changing; the cold heart of the ocean is rising once more to reclaim the shores.

So turns the weather.

He’s not alone today.

It’s hard to even notice at first, engrossed as he is with the comfortingly tedious motion of respooling his line. But regardless, he notices the new silent arrival gradually as it blooms into being in the darkness of his vision.

Death hangs around this one like a cloak, filling Ignis’s mind with a burst of bluish black as soon as it begins approaching. It’s not enough for Ignis to quite make out the shape of it as anything other than vaguely human-shaped; there’s no imminent tragedy coming for this one that paints a picture of how it looks in the future.

Ignis is intrigued.

He feigns ignorance, closing his eyes to focus on the half-vision of this approaching stranger while still keeping up with his fishing. He takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly. Innocently.

The presence draws closer, circling beneath the dock a few times. Waiting. Watching.

Ignis waits as well. He’s patient.

There’s a quiet sound at last: something breaking the surface. A head, perhaps. Something ripples along the water by his feet; he can feel the change in the way the tiny waves lap against his feet. Something’s decided to rise up and say hello.

Ignis waits.

Nothing.

No matter. Two can play at this game. Ignis checks his line, though he knows nothing has bitten yet; there’s no blue flash of his meal struggling against the line. Not quite yet, at least. Again, he’s patient. Still, his visitor is silent, and Ignis recognizes the feeling of eyes watching him. He ignores the weight of this stranger’s gaze, picking quietly at his meal.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Five.

“Hello,” he says at last, setting down his plate on the dock beside him. “Are you going to stare all day, or do you have aspirations beyond that?”

Silence.

But the presence is still there. It’s watching him. It’s close enough now that Ignis can see the faint details of his features out of the corner of his eye. He’s never seen anything like it. Like death in motion.

It’s beautiful.

“If you don’t talk, I’d be happy to fill in the conversational gaps,” Ignis offers, “though I’m afraid I’m not the best at reading body language.”

“I can talk.”

Ah. Ignis hadn’t expected this person to sound so sullen. It’s sort of endearing, really, to hear such indignation from someone who very clearly had been giving the impression of muteness. To each their own, he supposes. 

He leans forward. “He speaks,” he teases lightly. At least, he’s pretty sure that was a male voice. Maybe. Gods, he’s making a mess of things. What is he even talking to? “What brings you to my dock?” It’s quite hidden, far from town or the watchful eyes of sailors on passing boats. People don’t just stumble across it, especially not if they’re swimming on their own.

“I was curious.”

“Exploring the coves of the continent? This is private property, you know.” Not exactly true, but it feels very official to say. Very adult.

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

Ignis raises an eyebrow. “Do you not subscribe to the laws of men?” Deep in his heart, something lurches, and he can’t help but notice the shape of the blue silhouette beneath the water, lit by the promise of death. Not legs, but-

“I don’t.”

“Is that because-” He gestures towards the creature, then to his own legs. “Well. You know.”

“Couldn’t you tell?” There’s a splash, and suddenly Ignis’s pant leg is soaked in seawater, and he’s incredibly aware of this person leaning close to him, holding themselves up on the dock, watching him. “What’s the word you humans use? Sea folk? Merman?”

“A merman?” Ignis lifts his toes out of the water.

The merman smiles. It’s a vivid enough image that Ignis sees it in a burst, telling of all the lives this creature has taken and is yet to take. His teeth are sharper than Ignis expects, though maybe he should start believing the stories he heard as a child. The sea folk are carnivores, they say; the sea folk lure humans to a watery grave. “Scared?”

Ignis smiles back, heart racing. “I’d love a reason not to be.”

“You’re not running away screaming yet, so you’re doing better than most of them.”

“Most of the sane ones,” Ignis corrects wryly. “Don’t you make a living off of enticing humans to join you in the deep?”

“You’re smart,” the mer tells him. “I can tell you won’t be dinner.”

“Is that why you came over here in the first place?”

“Maybe.”

Ignis can’t help but shiver just a bit. Maybe that’s why death hangs around this creature; maybe it was his own death creeping on the horizon. “I see.”

A small laugh. This creature knows how to read him. “But you’re interesting. It’d be a shame to just end you.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I’m glad you agree.” There’s a pause, and then water splashes across his face in a delicate spray. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Ignis blinks.

“I’m holding out my hand,” the mer says with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Unless humans don’t do that anymore.”

“No, we do that,” Ignis assures him. “I’m just not the best at realizing it. I’m-” He gestures to his face. “I’m blind, actually. I can’t see you.” It’s only a half lie; the general aura of death around this merman gives him features tinged in that bluish light that has always colored his visions. Constant sight is not something he has ever expected; he has only ever seen in flashes of death throes and doom.

“Blind?” There’s a little splash of water; from what Ignis can sense of this mer, he’s pretty sure the tip of his tail has breached the water. “Aren’t blind humans-”

“Yes,” he interrupts shortly.

“Hm.”

Ignis doesn’t take his hand.

“I won’t pull you into the water, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“You must be psychic too,” Ignis says dryly, but he holds his hand out anyway.

There’s a soft splash of water, and then dampness splashes across his forearm, and someone’s strong hand grips his, shaking it firmly.

A merman’s hand.

This is a first.

“I’m Noctis.” A pause. “But most people call me Noct.”

“Ignis,” he replies. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Even through the leather of his glove, Ignis can feel the curious smooth texture of scales along this mer’s hands, and there’s a series of pinpricks along his hand where sharp nails - or claws - have found purchase. Yes, this creature is far from human. 

_ Noctis. _

It’s a beautiful name.

Noctis holds onto his hand still, turning it this way and that. “This is so weird.”

“What is?”

“You have...scales or something? On your hand?”

“It’s a glove, actually. It’s made of leather. The, ah, treated skin of land animals, if that makes sense.”

“Like humans?”

Ignis shakes his head. “I can’t imagine the outrage if that were the truth. No, leather is made from non-human animals.”

Noctis laughs. “I guess you guys don’t do that. Would be funny, though.”

“Well. Do you-” He cuts himself off. “Well, you know.”

“Gods, no. How would we even treat human skin underwater?”

“You have a fair point.”

Noctis seems to realize that he’s still holding Ignis’s hand, because he lets go very suddenly. “Look, I uh. I have to go. But maybe you’ll be around?”

“I live here,” Ignis tells him, “and there’s not much company down by the sea.”

“Well,” Noctis says, “now you have me.”

He flashes another smile, radiantly blue in the center of Ignis’s darkness, and slips back down to water level. He waits for a moment, looking at Ignis so intensely that Ignis can feel his gaze, but then he turns with an elegant flick of his tail - gods, his  _ tail  _ \- and dives back down beneath the water. 

And then he’s retreating, and the light of his lethality recedes.

Ignis misses his brightness already.

* * *

 

True to his word, Noctis visits him the next day at sundown.

“Do you like fish?”

It’s not much of a greeting, but maybe they don’t have courtesies under the sea.

“I do.” Ignis pats at the fishing pole by his side. “The pickings are slim out by the coast, but I make do with what swims around here.”

“Don’t you guys have markets and stuff?”

“We do, yes.”

“So-”

“I’m not welcome at the market.” He hopes that his tone conveys just how much he wants this particular subject to be avoided.

Noct’s quiet for a moment. Ignis almost worries that he’s about to leave, but his presence hovers in azure on the edge of his vision. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Ignis echoes. He wonders why the hell he was worried about the departure of a mer. He should be far, far away from a creature like this. 

“I’m good at fishing.”

Ignis raises an eyebrow. “I’d certainly hope so.”

“Shut up.” There’s something like teasing in there. If Ignis had his vision, he’s sure he’d see this merman blushing.

Do mers blush?

“I can’t stay for long.”

“Leaving already?” Ignis asks, heart sinking in disappointment. He’d hoped to get to know this Noctis. 

Noctis sighs. “I’m needed back home. Meetings.”

“Meetings?”

“Yeah, we have those.” Irritation, and a little bit of humor. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“If you’d like to come by, Noctis, you’d be welcome to join me.” Ignis pats the dock beside him, feeling the cold seawater through his gloves. “I’ll be here, fishing for dinner.”

“Well, then. Uh. Bye, Ignis.”

“Farewell for now, Noctis.”

 

* * *

 

“I got you this.”

Something flops onto the dock, gleaming the bright, near-white blue of something already dead, or close enough not to matter. It smells of the shore after high tide, or the way the wind blows in from the sea after a hurricane. “A fish?” Ignis asks bemusedly.

“Uh. Yeah. It’s a tuna.”

“How big?”

“It’s from the open water, so. Big, I guess? I tried to find the biggest one I could.” Something like embarrassment colors Noct’s tone, but he leans closer anyway, pulling himself up to rest his elbows on the dock with twin echoing  _ bumps  _ on the wood. He brings seawater with him when he rises from the surface, sending it soaking into Ignis’s pants, but Ignis doesn’t mind. “Feel it. It’s on your right.”

Ignis smiles and obeys, reaching out to the still-twitching body of the tuna, running his fingers along the smooth stairway of its scales. Here are the gills, and here the pectoral fins, and here the crescent moon curve of the tail fin. It truly is a massive fish. Tuna like this don’t come anywhere near his little cove by the cliffs, and he doubts he’d have the strength to catch one anyway.

He traces the scales back and forth, enjoying the differing textures depending on which way he goes along the body of the fish.

Idly, he wonders if this is what Noct’s scales feel like as well.

The predator. Noct the predator, who brought him a fish.

Noct who could kill him.

He swallows.

But Noctis wouldn’t do that, would he? He did this absurdly kind thing for Ignis even though Ignis has plenty to eat. He knew that Ignis was growing tired of the same old fish and the same old groceries. So he’d hunted this tuna and brought it to him.

He appreciates it. He does.

But he’s curious about how it happened.

Very deliberately, he places his bare thumb on the shimmering scales of the fish, and that’s enough to give him the vision.

It’s just a flash, fading away with the life force of this fish, but it’s enough for Ignis to see what happened to cause this creature’s demise. 

He sees the tuna, swimming in the shifting blue depths of the ocean beyond the cliffs, far away from the crashing waves. Alone. Vulnerable. Massive.

And he-

He sees Noctis.

In a flash of jet black scales and vibrant blue fins, this mer he now knows by name lunges out of the darkness of the sea depths. He has wild black hair that looks artfully styled even deep in the ocean, floating around his head like the antithesis of a halo. He holds out his hand to his side, curling his fingers in an elegant arc, and a wicked sword appears in his grasp even as he swings towards the tuna, slicing across just behind its head, incapacitating it.

Deadly.

Beautiful.

And Noct takes the struggling tuna under his arm and races towards the distant shore, eyes gleaming with determination.

He watches Ignis for a moment, hovering in the water, moving with the waves. He stares.

And then he surges upwards, throws the fish onto the dock, and declares, “I got you this.”

The vision dissolves into blueness and starlight.

Ignis takes his hand away from the fish, heart racing.

“Ignis?” Noct asks quietly. “Are you okay? You went quiet for a second.”

It’s odd now to hear Noct’s voice; he’s able to put a face to it, making him all the more familiar.

Ignis smiles weakly. “I’m quite fine.” He admits, “I feel a bit guilty; shouldn’t you be hunting for your people?”

“Nah, they’ve got plenty. There’s tons of us hunting. I did this for you.”

“I see.” Ignis hopes that his cheeks don’t flush too visibly. “I suppose there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

Noct’s silent for a moment.

Ignis waits.

“Was that a joke?”

Ignis chuckles. “It might have been.”

Noctis groans, “I  _ hate  _ it.”

“You’ll have to get used to it if you’re going to stick around,” Ignis tells him, still smiling. He sobers after a moment. “But truly, Noctis. Thank you.”

“Noct,” he reminds him.

Ignis smiles. “Noct, then. Thank you.”

* * *

Noctis brings him a new fish every day.

Sometimes it’s something small and rare and poisonous that Noctis insists is the best thing in the entire ocean. Sometimes it’s a swordfish, or a salmon, or an octopus. Once, Noct bequeaths him with a fairly large squid, and Ignis struggles to figure out how to prepare all of it before it spoils.

It seems like so much work that Noct is putting in just to bring food to a lone Seer in his cove, but Noctis insists that he doesn’t mind. He loves fishing, he says. Ignis admits that he really only fishes out of necessity, and Noctis teases him, but after that the offerings get more elaborate, and Ignis stops bringing his fishing pole to the docks.

Ignis offers him a taste of sushi, but Noct refuses it politely; he’s never had rice before and he’s not eager to try now. 

So apparently mers can be picky eaters.

It’s endearing.

* * *

 

“Are you magical?” Ignis asks him one day. It’s definitely late fall now. He’s so used to Noct’s visits now that he’s started keeping time by counting their encounters. Weeks have gone by, and Noctis has visited every day.

Noctis, lounging beside him with his elbows propped up on the edge of the dock, snorts. “That’s out of the blue.”

“It’s an honest question, Noct.”

“My father’s king of the sea,” Noctis tells him.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Ignis replies idly, dipping his fingers in the water. “Do you tell that to all the humans?”

“Do you not believe me?”

“There are a lot of things I don’t believe.” Ignis flicks his fingers, splashing saltwater in a little spray of droplets across his face. “You can only go so far on the the kindness of strangers, in my experience.”

“Are strangers usually unkind?”

“No,” Ignis admits, “but that changes once they get to know you.”

Noct’s silent for a bit. Then he asks, “Is that what happened to you?”

“Yes.”

Noctis gets closer. His hand finds its way tentatively to Ignis’s shin; Ignis shivers at the pinpricks of his sharp nails through the fabric of his clothing. “Did they hurt you?” he asks, and for a moment his presence grows brighter blue, full of the threat of imminent death.

“Not physically, no,” Ignis assures him. 

“Blind humans see in different ways than others. It’s feral magic.”

“Feral magic,” Noctis repeats slowly. “We have that too, y’know.” His hand twitches on Ignis’s leg, holding him closer. “So wouldn’t your people know that you have magic? Since you’re blind? I don’t see a problem.”

“For a long time, people tend not to ask questions. It’s impolite to ask what  _ kind _ of Seer someone is. But then you trust the wrong person with your secret, or you take someone’s hand with your bare one in the middle of the market, and-” He stops. 

He still remembers the vision that had cemented his fate. He’d shaken the hand of one of the city guards, and then-

And then-

_ All he can see is the face of this man - Luche, his friend - wreathed in flames. He screams, but there is no escape, and the flames grow hotter. And then Luche crumbles, still burning, to ash and dust, and something drops from his fingers into the pale hands of someone waiting just beneath the surface- _

_ He falls to his knees, gasping around the taste of smoke that isn’t there. _

_ “You burn,” he rasps aloud. “You burn.” _

_ Luche steps back; when his hand leaves Ignis’s, the world plunges into blackness once more. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks in horror. “What did you see?” _

_ All he saw was a traitor, and Luche being punished by a magic none of them can understand.  _

_ “Get the fuck out of here,” Luche snarls, and all around them, others murmur agreement. Ignis recognizes their voices. They’d been friends to him. _

_ “You’re not welcome here, Seer,” another voice says, and they send him away, away, away- _

It’s not a pleasant memory.

“For a time,” Ignis says quietly, once he’s found his voice again, “I was happy that I was on the cliffs. I’d hoped that perhaps one day my feet would fail me. An accident. And then I wouldn’t see anything anymore.”

“Ignis.” Pained. He hadn’t meant to make Noctis upset.

“What?”

“Ignis, what do you see?”

Ignis bows his head, closing his eyes tightly. Even then, he can’t banish the visions of everything dying and about to die in the ocean below him. It’s inescapable. A curse.

“I see death, Noctis.” He spits it with all the bitterness he’d been holding inside. He hates them for casting him out. He hates this solitary life by the edge of the sea, belonging to nothing and nobody and nowhere. He hates his eyes for only showing him pain.

“Do you see my death?”

Ignis looks towards him, drawn to him by the halo of blue light that makes Noct glow in the darkness of his blindness. “Do you want me to?”

“So you haven’t yet.”

“I haven’t touched you with bare skin.”

“On purpose?”

“Of course.” Ignis picks at the edge of his glove. “It’s not a pleasant experience, Noct.”

“Oh. Yeah. I don’t blame you.”

They fall silent. Noctis doesn’t push him, and Ignis appreciates the courtesy. Perhaps they do have manners and empathy beneath the sea. But Ignis can’t stop thinking about the marketplace, and about how he’s only ever wanted to touch someone who isn’t afraid of what he sees when he does.

Maybe Noct could be that person.

“Oh, damn it all,” Ignis mutters, and he takes off his glove in a single rapid movement, already reaching for Noctis.

His fingers find the delicate curve of his cheek first, and then everything explodes into blueness.

Noct’s death comes to him in flashes. Disjointed. Painful.

An older king, an ascended warrior, sits on a throne. Noct, in another time. At least there’s still time.

Phantom swords rise up, gripped by shadowy figures with armor and tails adorned with gemstones. And the figures strike at the very heart of Noctis. Killing him.

Sacrificing him.

They hit him over and over and over, and Noct  _ screams- _

Ignis jerks his hand away, gasping. He doubles over, choking on air and seawater, struggling to hear anything that isn’t the sound of steel and screams. He stays quiet for a long while, desperately wrangling his heart back under control. Noctis catches his hand, and the vision flashes in Ignis’s periphery once more, but the initial shock of it is gone. Ignis can ignore it for now.

He’s thankful for that.

“What did you see?” Noctis asks at last. His hand doesn’t leave Ignis’s; Ignis finds an odd sort of comfort in the slide of Noct’s scales against his skin. 

Ignis says, mouth dry, “You’re destined for greatness.”

Noctis studies him closely with a heavy, scrutinizing gaze. “So I get killed.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to. It’s what happens to princes.” He pauses. “Or kings, I guess. Was I old?”

“Older than you are now, yes.”

“How do you know that’s not how I look now?”

Ignis shrugs. “The fish you bring me...if I touch them, I see how they die. How you kill them.”

“That’s really smart of you.” It’s a compliment from Noct, which is rare in its sincerity. Ignis cherishes it.

“It could be useful, maybe,” Ignis says quietly. “Maybe I can avert things. I’ve done it a few times. I see a fish as it bites my line, but I raise my line before the vision comes to pass in reality. I could be useful to them.”

“Well then, why’re you out here?”

Ignis snorts. “Do you really think that people want to talk to someone who sees nothing but death?”

“We could talk to you.” A soft hand finds its way to his wrist, warmer than Ignis had expected. “I like talking to you.”

“Then that makes one.” Ignis smiles weakly.

“Could be a lot more.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you could come with me. Under the sea.”

Ignis bites at his lip, then looks back over his shoulder at where he knows his little house sits waiting for him. Empty. Lonely. “I’m not sure I understand,” he says softly.

“My Dad takes in all of the outcasts.”

“People with talents who he took in. Calls them Glaives.” Noctis’s hand travels further up his arm, and Ignis doesn’t stop him. “The most special ones are our Crownsguard.”

Ignis can hardly breathe. “But I’m human.”

“You don’t need to be anymore.” Noctis suddenly lunges upward with a splash, grip tightening on Ignis’s arm, and Ignis almost panics because maybe this is the moment when Noctis drags him to the depths and kills him, but instead Noctis just lifts himself up onto the dock entirely, sitting beside Ignis. This way, the smooth end of his tail brushes and tangles with Ignis’s feet. It feels entirely foreign and entirely right.

“Noct-”

“I’ll be fine,” Noct promises. “I just wanted to, y’know-” He stops short, then mumbles, “Be closer.”

_ Oh. _ “Oh,” Ignis breathes. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Noct’s hand on his arm travels back down, nails skittering harmlessly along Ignis’s skin until he finds his hand. He taps quietly, expectantly, and Ignis opens his hand to him immediately. Noct laces their fingers together. “If it makes you feel any better, this isn’t going to hurt me. Mers are meant to bask on rocks and stuff, you know? Same with sirens. Especially sirens. You ever met one?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“My friend’s one. She’s great. Has a trident and everything. You can meet her if you come with me.”

“I want to,” Ignis says quietly, shocking himself with the truth of it. “I want to come with you.”

“Then do it.”

“How?”

Noct’s hand squeezes his gently. “Feral magic, remember? I’m prince for a reason.”

It’s tempting. Putting his faith in the magic of a prince of the sea seems so simple after spending so much time learning about the intricacies of the world beneath the water. Spending so much time with  _ Noct. _

And there could be so much more.

“There’s nothing for me there on land,” Ignis admits. “Nothing at all.”

“Then come with me,” Noctis begs. “You could be happy with us.”

“Happy,” Ignis echoes, and his heart lurches. He’d been content in his little home. He’s just-

He’s not sure.

“Do you trust me?” Noct asks him.

“I do,” Ignis promises. “I do. But I just need time to think.”

Noctis goes still beside him. When he speaks again, his voice is distant and dejected and sullen. “I understand.”

“Noct, please.”

“I’ll give you some space. I think you need it.” Noctis squeezes his hand once again, but then he detaches himself quickly, slipping back into the water from the dock. He doesn’t stick around this time, and he doesn’t make any farewells. He just disappears.

Ignis watches his blue glow disappear into the depths, and he can’t help but wonder if he made a mistake by letting him go away.

He misses him.

* * *

Ignis wakes in the middle of the night to the sound of thunder.

He stumbles out of bed, not bothering with his shoes, wearing only a pair of pants to keep him warm. Out into the pouring rain he goes. It’s frigid and miserable, but he doesn’t care.

He needs to go to the sea.

Bare, his feet catch and slip on the familiar rocks of his path to the water. In his haste, he slices his foot open on a shard of shell that must have gotten kicked up with the furious tide. He growls at the pain but keeps moving. Nothing matters but the sea.

The rain has soaked him through already, and the wind threatens to throw him off the cliffside, but he makes it to the dock, sprinting down to the edge empty handed. He has nothing to offer but himself; he hopes it’ll be enough.

“Noct!” he yells into the storm. “Noctis!”

“Ignis!”

Of course he’d be here. He knew. He must have. His voice is so close, just at the edge of the dock. Ignis smiles down at where he knows Noct to be, shivering in the pouring rain. Thunder tears through his ears once more; the lightning must be close. “I’m ready,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll go with you.” Into the deep. Below the water.

The worst case scenario is that he dies.

And, really, he doesn’t think he minds that.

“Then come on!” Noctis calls above the howl of the storm.

Without a second thought, Ignis strips off his pants, throws them into the greedy wind, and dives into the sea.

The ocean is freezing now, chilled by the breath of Shiva herself as winter begins to creep ever closer. Ignis flinches at the shock of the cold, crying out in surprise beneath the surface, but he rises for air, gasping when the wind sends salt-rich wind like knives into his lungs. “Noct!” he cries; it’s hard to find him with the water so choppy and wild. 

A hand finds his, keeping him from being pulled beneath the waves. “You came,” Noctis breathes, so relieved that Ignis immediately knows that he’s made the right decision. It’s all worth it if he makes Noctis sound that happy. 

“I’m here,” Ignis promises. “I’m not going anywhere.” Not without Noct.

“Tell me,” Noct says, circling him in the frigid water of the sea. “What sort of weapon do you prefer?”

Ignis thinks of his long days spent alone in his cabin, honing his skills in the kitchen. Blades. Yes, he does like those. He recalls his visions of Noctis on the hunt, conjuring a phantom sword, but he doesn’t think he’d want anything so unwieldy. Something smaller, yes. Something familiar. A knife. “Daggers,” he says, and he knows that that is the right thing for him.

“Daggers,” Noctis repeats, close to his right ear, so close that Ignis can feel every place where Noct’s skin gives way to black and blue scales.

Noctis comes around to face him, reaching up to touch Ignis’s cheek. Ignis presses his face into the touch, chasing the warmth that Noctis exudes in the middle of the freezing ocean. Noctis leans in close to him, and his lips brush Ignis’s cheek.

Ignis turns towards him, desperate for his touch, and kisses him for real, for the first time, for good.

Noctis groans against his lips and pulls him closer, wrapping a strong arm around him to hold him close. Ignis runs his hand down the long ridge of the fin along Noct’s spine, welcoming the whine that Noctis lets out into his mouth. 

“Trust me,” Noctis says once more when they part, breathless and feral.

Ignis nods. “I do,” he promises. “I do.”

“Good.”

And Noctis kisses him once more, slotting their mouths together like he was meant to be there, and he stabs Ignis in the chest.

Ignis gasps, jerking away from the pain, the pain, the  _ pain- _

But Noctis holds him tightly with arms designed to pull men to their deaths, refusing to let Ignis go.

The water churns around them, going warm with what must be blood, and thunder roars out once more above their heads. 

Noctis keeps his mouth locked on Ignis’s as he pulls him into the deep. 

Over and over, he sees the king Noctis will become, outlined in raw blue on the edges of his vision, and that makes everything hurt all the more.

But soon enough the agony in his chest starts coming from his lungs as well, and the black haze of his blindness begins to overtake the blue of his visions. Ignis clutches at Noct, desperately trying to stay awake, stay with him; stay alive.

But he’s only human, and woefully so. He collapses in Noctis’s arms, unable to breathe any longer, and Noctis brings him out to sea.

* * *

The world is black around him.

Warm. Heavy. Welcoming.

Ignis takes in one breath. Another. Another. The air is thick in his lungs.

The air?

_ No. _

Wait. 

He sits upright, scrabbling at his chest. He’d been in pain. He was bleeding; he was drowning, and Noctis was holding him and pulling him into the deep. He remembers. He remembers.

“Ignis.”

_ Noct. _

Ignis floats, vulnerable and confused, in the water here, deep beneath the sea and far from the sun. “Noctis,” he mumbles. “Noct, I’m  _ scared.” _

“Shh,” Noctis hushes him gently. “You’re doing wonderfully.” There’s a soft push of moving water against his skin, and he’s aware of the blue glow of Noctis growing closer. Not touching him yet, giving him space, but he’s close. That alone is a comfort. He hasn’t abandoned Ignis.

“How?” he rasps, feeling his chest for some hint of a wound. There’s none that he can find.

“Phantom blades,” Noctis explains. He places his hand on the center of Ignis’s chest where he’d stabbed him, rubbing his thumb over the place where a gaping wound should be. “That’s my ability. If I share them...I make you like me.”

Ignis closes his eyes, focusing for a moment on the feeling of Noct’s hand on him. It keeps him grounded in this directionless world below the world. “Like you,” he murmurs. “Is that why you asked?”

Noctis chuckles. “Hold out your hand. Think of a dagger.”

Slowly, Ignis extends his hand. He clenches it into a fist first, marveling when he feels the sharpness of his own nails. But then he opens his fingers again, curling them the way he recalls from his visions of Noctis on the hunt, and he thinks of the elegant blades he’d always dreamt of wielding.

And then something settles into his palm, cool and heavy and perfectly balanced.

Ignis twirls it on instinct, marveling at its craftsmanship.  _ “Oh,”  _ he murmurs. “Oh, Noct, this is-”

“Don’t say it.” Embarrassment once more. “It was the least I could do.”

“Noct, it was everything to me.” Ignis clenches his fist, and the dagger disappears from his hand; he feels it, somehow, return to a place deep within his chest. “So it - it worked?”

Noctis raises his hand to Ignis’s cheek, so reminiscent of the night of the storm. “You tell me.”

Ignis closes his eyes, and for once he focuses on his body. His clawed hands, his easy breathing, and the way water brushes against him and he knows what it means: this all comes easily. He focuses further down, expecting legs but finding instead a tail.

Gods, a tail.

Breathlessly, he asks, “What do I look like?”

“Y’know, it’s always a toss-up how they’ll turn out. Some just get the ugliest colors.” Noctis circles Ignis, trailing a clawed finger along his neck. “You got lucky. You’re beautiful.”

“What color?” Ignis asks quietly, though he knows he won’t really understand. He’s only ever known blue.

“Green,” Noctis tells him. “Dark green here.” He places his hand flat on the broadest part of Ignis’s tail, right where his skin meets the scales. “But lighter here, on the scales on your arms and back. And the fins too.”

Ignis shivers at the touch. He’d never even imagined what it would feel like to even  _ have  _ a tail, so to feel someone touch it is an experience all its own. “Noctis, I-”

“Noct.”

That’s enough to make him laugh. All this, and Noctis still corrects him. “Noct,” he says, smiling. “Thank you.”

Being underwater, being  _ inhuman,  _ has given him so much more than he’d ever imagined.

It’s not sight. It’ll never be sight.

But underwater, he can feel everything. Every change in the water The currents that run along his fins are sometimes warm, sometimes cold, disrupted and changed by the movements of other creatures through the sea around him. It’s exquisite.

He twists in the water, finding that movement comes easily.

“You’re a natural, Ignis.” Noctis comes up from behind him, running a hand down his back. The smooth slide of his scales along Ignis’s spine feels like a homecoming. 

“It feels right,” Ignis admits, and he laughs once more. 

“Welcome home,” Noctis whispers, and he kisses Ignis.

Ignis responds in kind, and for once, he doesn’t mind the way his mind lights up in shades of blue.

* * *

They hunt together.

The ocean is open for them to come and go as they please. Insomnia is always available to them, and King Regis appreciates when they come back and visit, but more often than not Noctis brings Ignis through the endless waters of the world, showing him everything Ignis had never dreamed possible. Noctis kills small fish along the way, lighting up their surroundings in shades of blue so that Ignis can see their surroundings through the lens of some creature’s demise. 

Sometimes, they’re joined by others of Noct’s Crownsguard that Noctis has collected along the way. Prompto with his pale skin and tail but bright demeanor is always a laugh. Ignis will never forget the first time he saw Prompto lit up in blue as he killed an attacking squid with a burst of electricity, lighting the sea up bright white. Gladiolus, tattooed and gregarious, was one of the first to welcome Ignis to Insomnia. Ignis knows he can trust him with any secret, and with Noct’s life when trouble comes knocking.

Ignis thinks he might recognize their voices from a time before the sea. Visitors, maybe, from his house on the cliffs.

Though he can’t be sure.

Most of the time, though, Ignis and Noctis are on their own.

Today, they’re out by the island nation of Accordo, heading around on their tour towards the great sunken mountains and towers of Tenebrae. The waters are balmier here than in the north, and Ignis appreciates the warmth as he spirals along the currents.

They’re on the hunt. Ignis is on the trail.

“There’s death up ahead,” Ignis warns.

“Mine?”

“One can only hope.”

Noct whacks him on the arm, but Ignis just laughs and absorbs the force of the blow, spinning out of the way in a flourish. The joke is an old one, but Ignis loves it all the same. These hunting missions are the best time to see glimpses of Noctis as he truly is, caught in the images of the final death throes of whatever prey he ends up taking down.

Their prey is a shark today.

It doesn’t stand a chance.

“I’m going in,” Noctis tells him quietly, and he kisses Ignis on the cheek and darts off into the open water. Ignis feels him leave by the way the water’s flow disrupts around him; it’s enough to keep Ignis’s focus on him until Noctis makes the kill.

And that’s when Ignis sees him.

He’ll never tire of these visions when Noct is part of them. This is Noctis at his most beautiful, his most visceral, his most powerful.

There are the familiar black scales with a blue sheen, shimmering in the sunlight. Where his fins emerge from his tail and forearms and spine, they get thinner and thinner, turning iridescent blue at the ends, catching the light and filtering it until Noct nearly disappears into the open sea. But nothing this beautiful could ever fade against the backdrop of the ocean.

And his eyes.

Deep blue, dark as the moonlit sky over the open water, Noctis’s eyes focus on the shark. He lunges, dodging out of the way of a powerful bite as he goes. On his way past, he lashes out with a razor-sharp fin, drawing first blood along the creature’s flank. The shark retaliates, but Noct is ready with his sword, meeting the shark’s mouth with the point of his blade, driving it home through the shark’s skull.

And just like that, it’s over.

Noct twists and grins at him, baring sharp teeth honed by years of slaughter, and the vision fades into the reality of the present day. Ignis’s eyesight fades back into darkness, but he focuses on the spot where he knew Noct had been, and he goes to him, kissing him hard on the lips. 

Noctis laughs against him and pulls away. “You always going to do that?” he teases. It’s another part of their routine: the kisses, the jokes, and the thrill of the kill.

Ignis finishes their loop, smiling at Noctis. “Always,” he promises.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [here!](http://www.triplehelix.tumblr.com)


End file.
